She would be okay. She would get coffee and she would get donuts. She didn’t need the donuts, not the way she needed coffee. She just wanted them. She wanted the little machine made chocolate ones. She liked how they tasted when held in the coffee until the cake soaked through and was held in place by the waxy brown coating. Her feet sank into the mud with each step almost to her ankle. She pulled herself into the cab of the old Ford and as the diesel turned over she sat for a moment enjoying the heat at her feet and the sound of the large drops clanking on the metal over her head. The drive way to the house was soaked through and she had to engage the four-wheel drive. She smiled at all the times she had teased Ben about how the truck had six tires but only four-wheel drive. It always made him sigh, as if she was the one being silly. The county road was paved and there were no tourists or trucks on it, not on a day like today. She made her way down the hill to the creek. It was a. We picked up some pizza on the way to Tammy's house.Tammy and her mother had set the table and poured sodas and cleaned upa bit. Mother helped me carry in the packages we'd purchased and wedumped them in the living room. Dinner was nice and quiet, thoughMother kept bringing up how embarrassed she was about being notified ofmy flipping up Tammy's dress. Tammy didn't seem to mind in the leastand thought it was cute that I was curious about her panties. She toldMother that she would have been happy to just invite me over and showme her underwear drawer if I was that curious. Of course Tammy's mothersaid that was totally inappropriate. A girl never shows her panties toa gentleman and apparently I wasn't a gentleman as I'd flipped herdress up anyway. It was after dinner that I had to sit in front ofthese ladies and remove the tags and write my name on all the newclothing that Mother thought would be the perfect punishment for ayoung boy flipping up girl's skirts and peek at their.
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